


spirited away

by monstermash



Series: memento mori (remember, you will die) [15]
Category: Far Cry (Video Games), Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, falling in love with a ghost, i'm not even really sure what this AU is exactly, kind of??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstermash/pseuds/monstermash
Summary: There’s a tale in the valley of a man who lived his life chasing a ghost after the end of the world, and that in the end the ghost spirited him away.





	spirited away

**Author's Note:**

> i'm a big ol' gay and i've been dying to write this weird af AU for months now.
> 
> im taking a break from writing, mostly becuz it's been stressing me out and i'm very tired. i still plan on finishing the fics i have, it's just updates are going to be very slow and sporadic.
> 
> y'all can find me [here](http://edmunderson.tumblr.com/) if you have questions or just wanna talk about far cry stuff

The forest near the old bunker entrance is eerily silent, like it always is.

It’s a warning from nature itself to stay away because whatever lies inside is unnatural.

But Garrett already knew that, has always known that, but it’s never stopped him from feeling like there’s someone – or something – waiting for him within those cracking concrete walls, practically beckoning him to step inside.

 _‘There are some old places from before that should never be bothered,’_ William’s old warning echoes faintly in the back of his mind.

And Garrett should listen to it. He should turn around right now and head back to Falls End, or go to a different part of the forest and hunt so he doesn’t go home empty handed.

He doesn’t though; the dreams – memories, whatever they are – and the strange and powerful pull he feels from this place are all the reason he needs to ignore the warnings. Garrett needs answers and everything points to this old, ruined bunker on the northern edge of the valley.

With a soft huff, Garrett sets his shoulders and crosses the open threshold (the door long since gone, either through decay or someone desperate enough to get in or out of the place) into the inky darkness that hangs ominously on the cold gray concrete.

There’s an odd crackle in the air, like a sigh of relief, of elation, that accompanies the sound of his boots descending the rusty staircase.

\---

“What is this place?” Garrett asks, looking up at William who is holding onto the collar of Billy’s parka to keep the blond boy from running off into the ruins.

“It’s a bunker,” William explains. “An old world ruin. People built them to survive a nuclear holocaust. But this one—” William points to it, a slight grimace on his face “—this one is part of a set. There are three others like it in the region.”

“Can we go inside?” Billy looks up at his father with excitement dancing in his eyes, his face pink from the winter air.

“No. There are some old places from before that should never be bothered.” William doesn’t cave in when Billy pouts at him, so Garrett knows the man is serious. Garrett casts a glance at the lonely looking entrance, the empty threshold, and feels a slight tug at the back of his mind. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

Billy quiets down and both boys listen intently, but there’s nothing; no birds, no deer, not even wolves or wild dogs. The silence is oppressive, deafening even.

“There’s no animals,” Garrett answers, eyes wide and voice barely above a whisper as an odd sense of dread coils and writhes like a snake in his stomach. It’s only after he says it, makes it real, that he even notices that there’s something that feels… _off_ about the place.

William nods and one corner of his mouth quirks up, a sad looking smile when he sees the questioning look on Garrett’s face.

“Before the bombs fell, there used to be a cult and they built this bunker and the other three like it. A good idea in theory, but people don’t do too well being cooped up underground for long.”

Brows furrowing at the half answer, Garrett looks back towards the bunker; Billy doesn’t seem so eager to go exploring now, though Garrett can tell his best friend still wants to know what lies inside.

“So what happened?” Garrett asks, curiosity welling up within him.

But William doesn’t tell them the rest.

“I’ll tell you more when you’re older. Just remember to stay away from here. Don’t ever go inside,” William tells him before turning around and heading back towards the tree line.

Garrett stands there for a few moments longer, looking at the bunker’s entrance. The tugging at the back of his mind grows stronger and it isn’t until William calls for him that Garrett even realizes that he had been edging closer and closer to the bunker.

He runs after William and Billy as fast as his ten year old legs can carry him, though he keeps looking over his shoulder at the bunker until the trees swallow it from sight completely.

\---

Garrett’s always had strange dreams; dreams of a man with lake water blue eyes and a beautifully wild grin.

Come morning the events of the dreams are always muddled and fuzzy, but the man he remembers clearly.

After William showed them the bunker, the dreams become more solid, more _real,_ and Garrett’s able to remember them.

He doesn’t tell anyone about them though; he’d rather not draw the attention of what remains of the old world cult that still lives in the hills. They keep to themselves for the most part and everyone else is happy to ignore them.

Because the thing is… the thing about the cult is that they’re the only people who don’t have the sense to leave the bunkers alone. They send people in and no one ever comes out. That doesn’t stop them though; they’re looking for something in those bunkers and no one knows what.

But everyone knows that there’s something that haunts the land.

In the Henbane there’s tales of the Siren; a ghostly young woman who lures people in with her song and spirits them away into a green haze filled with sickly sweet flowers. Few ever return and fewer still who return with their mind intact and not changed into some snarling, mindless beast.

To the north, in the Whitetails Mountains, there’s a specter of a red haired man whose eyes are colder than the winter chill, whose arrival is heralded by the baying of wolves; his hands and mouth are stained red. No one knows what happens to the people he keeps; the ones he doesn’t always turn up in the woods, with pieces missing and teeth marks on whatever is left.

But in the valley, there is no spirit, no fae-like creature waiting to spirit away some unlucky soul. The only indication that the valley is just as haunted as anywhere else is the bunker and the drownings.

 _‘Don’t ever go to the water alone,’_ is the warning. Apparently feeling uneasy near the rivers is a common thing, but Garrett’s never felt wary near the water.

No, there’s always an ache in his heart, and he sees flashes of blue eyes and a grin and he gets the urge to go to the bunker and… do what, he doesn’t know.

“You’ve got that faraway look in your eye again,” Billy teases him every time.

\---

_“You could always join us.”_

_Garrett gives him a wry look before sinking his fingers into mussed up brown hair._

_“No offense, but seven years in a bunker doesn’t exactly sound appealing, John.”_

_John huffs with faux annoyance, but shifts closer to him on the rumpled sheets anyway. Garrett traces the letters carved into the other man’s chest and tries not to think about the world outside of this room; things aren’t great and the only time he feels even remotely at peace is when he’s with John, which just makes things worse._

_They’re on opposite sides, supposed to be enemies, and they’ve both done a lot of messed up things._

_“At least think about it?” John asks him, uncharacteristically quiet and subdued, lake water eyes searching Garrett’s face for an answer he won’t get._

_“Okay,” Garrett tells John. “I’ll think about it.”_

_It’s a lie and they both know it._

_“Okay,” John repeats just as softly as he pulls Garrett closer, presses them together and holds Garrett tightly, as if John’s afraid he’ll disappear like a dream in the morning._

_Garrett holds him back just as tightly and feels the slight tremor in John’s shoulders._

\---

The inside of the bunker is so dark that Garrett can barely see his own hand in front of his face; he hasn’t even gotten that far in yet, not even a quarter of the way down the deep stairwell.

He clicks on the flashlight he brought with him, one of the very few left and the people of Falls End are going to be very upset if he loses it, but it’s better than using a torch.

The sound of his old boots (hand-me-downs that are older than him, older than his father; from before the bombs dropped, from before, still only around because of good maintenance and repair) echo and ricochet and the unsettling creak from the old, rusty stairs are the only things that keep the silence at bay.

So far nothing has happened and it makes Garrett wonder just what is so dangerous about this place that keeps even the wildlife away.

Of course, as soon as he thinks that, one of the steps gives out underneath him, but he manages to catch himself so he doesn’t plummet into the darkness below, his heart hammering in his ears.

 _Oh,_ he thinks idly, _that’s why._

\---

The descent feels like it takes hours, but is probably only minutes.

It comes to a halt when, about halfway down, the stairs are gone completely; a quick shine from his flashlight shows twisted and broken metal. The stairs must’ve fallen in at some point.

With a sigh, Garrett unhooks the coil of rope from his bag and ties it off on the still intact railing; hopefully it’ll support his weight instead of breaking.

As he swings his legs over the ledge, it occurs to Garrett that he should probably turn around and leave, that this might be his last chance to do so. But then he thinks of the man – John – from his dreams, memories from a life he lived yet didn’t.

Stubborn determination sets in again and Garrett lowers himself down the rope, ignoring the shadowy dark that feels like it’s pressing in around him. It takes no time at all to get to the bottom where there’s a twisted heap of rusty metal waiting for him.

Down here there’s a musty smell and the stench of old decay. Brow furrowed, Garrett lifts up the flashlight, but the only thing he sees are a bunch of smashed crates and a door on the far side of the room, though it looks closed, maybe even locked. If it’s locked there’s not much Garrett can do to get through it.

Taking a step forward, towards the door, there’s a soft crunch beneath Garrett’s boot and he stops, looks down; bones (not all of them human) and rotted scraps of clothing.

Something above him moves and when Garrett looks he sees his rope falling into a coiled heap at his feet at the same time he hears the door creak open.

_‘There are some old places from before that should never be bothered.’_

_Too late for that,_ Garrett thinks, heading to the now open door. There’s not much else for him to do except to keep going.

There’s a thrum in the stale air and the phantom sensation of a smile being pressed against the back of his neck.

Garrett ignores the scratch marks on the door.

\---

_There’s a wet, rasping chuckle coming from John._

_“So close and yet so far,” John remarks wryly, brushing bloody fingers against Garrett’s cheek._

_Garrett doesn’t laugh, not this time; there’s so much blood and John is_ dying. _He hauls the other man up and starts moving them towards John’s bunker._

_“Was it intentional? Making the church look like someone was getting married? I gotta admit, nailing crows to the wall was a bit much, but if you had asked I would’ve said yes.” Garrett’s rambling, just a bit; to keep both of their minds focused on something, to keep John awake._

_“Why even bother?” John asks, his grin turning mean, lashing out. “Leave me. There’s no point; you would never had said yes, you don’t believe. You don’t_ care.”

 _“Of course I care. I care about_ you.” _They’ve somehow made it most of the way up the hill, passing the guard shack, but they’re going far too slowly for Garrett’s liking; there’s more of John’s blood in the dirt than, y’know, inside where it belongs. “And I wouldn’t have said yes to joining Eden’s Gate; I would’ve said yes to marrying you.”_

_There’s a brief moment of silence before John’s lips crash against the side of Garrett’s mouth, smearing blood on his cheek._

_“You always say the sweetest things,” John rasps, eyes sliding shut and panic lances Garrett’s heart._

_“Hey, eyes open. You can sleep later when you’re not bleeding out.”_

_John hums quietly, but does listen to Garrett and opens his eyes._

\---

The stale airs seems to get thicker the further Garrett goes, and warmer too, as if it were smoke instead.

Garrett steps carefully, not wanting to crush more bones beneath his feet; he gets the sickening feeling that in another life, he did plenty of that.

There are a lot of skeletons down here, sprawled out or curled up, some look like they were holding each other, others died holding now ruined books.

It makes Garrett wonder how they died down here, why they weren’t able to leave.

\---

William lets out a tired sigh as he pours a drink for himself and for Garrett.

“There really isn’t much to say,” he begins. The firelight flickers, casting restless shadows across William’s face and Garrett leans forward, ready to hear more about the old bunker. “It used to belong to the cult; most of them went in – the unlucky few who weren’t quick enough got locked out and carried on their practices – and as far as anyone knows, no one has ever come out alive. Just… one day the main doors were gone and the animals stopped going near the bunkers.”

“That’s it?”

There’s a humorless huff of laughter. “That’s it. Anyone who goes in never comes out again; I only told you this so you’d stop being curious about the place. There’s nothing good for you or anyone there.”

Garrett frowns down at his drink; there’s definitely something down there. He knows it, feels it with his whole being.

He doesn’t find out for sure though, not for many years, not until he turns thirty and finally decides to throw caution to the wind and follow through on the impulses he’s had for most of his life, to go inside the bunker.

\---

_It had been difficult to hand John over to the Peggies at the bunker, but Garrett would prefer John alive and whole instead of dying in his arms._

_John grabs for him, his grip weak, and it breaks Garrett’s heart to leave him._

_Leaning forward, ignoring the stares of Hudson and the cultists, Garrett presses a kiss to John’s cheek._

_“Come find me when this is all over,” Garrett whispers before taking a step back, letting the Peggies retreat with John into the bunker._

_John never got the chance to find him again, since two weeks later the world was doused in fire and Garrett burned with it._

\---

His heart aches for a man he’s never known outside of his dreams.

He misses and loves a man named John who wanted his brother’s approval, wanted to feel like he belonged in his own family, a man who lashed out and did terrible things to people with little to no remorse.

It feels like his head is being pulled apart and crushed at the same time; conflicting memories, two lives in one mind.

The same yet nothing alike.

\---

When Garrett reaches the bottom of the bunker, he finds a lit candle of all things.

Carefully, he picks it up and nearly drops it when other candles flicker to life all on their own, showing Garrett the way to whatever it is that’s waiting for him.

There’s a thick layer of dust that covers everything, just like in the rest of the bunker, but here, there’s enough lit candles for Garrett to get a good look at the room without having to use the flashlight; words scratched into the walls, oddly shaped bags hanging from the rafters, but what really catches his attention are the skeletons in the center of the room.

Five of them sit in a half circle around one with what looks like a key on a necklace draped around its neck and wearing a blue button-up shirt that has seen better days.

The thrumming in the air, the crackle of expectation, grows louder as Garrett walks toward the blue shirt skeleton, pulled to it as if it’s what has been calling out to him all this time.

He stops next to it, reaches out and carefully touches the shirt, pinching the fabric between his fingertips. 

“You’re finally here,” a voice breathes out against his ear and Garrett whips his head around to see lake water blue eyes and a soft, almost disbelieving look on the face of a man who Garrett has only ever seen while asleep. He reaches out, resting a hand on the side of Garrett’s neck, his thumb rubbing small circles against Garrett’s skin. “You look the same.”

His pulse is racing and Garrett knows John can feel it, can tell by the way his eyes soften at the corners. It’s strange, seeing memories that aren’t his yet are superimposed over what’s happening right now. Leaning forward, Garrett rests his forehead against John’s. “You didn’t have to wait down here. Could’ve come looking for me.”

John makes a disagreeing noise in the back of his throat, a frown tugging at his mouth. “I felt it the moment you died. Do you know how angry I was, Garrett? I asked you over and over to join us; you would’ve lived if you had.”

The air is almost too thick, it feels like Garrett’s drowning as he holds John’s gaze; if he isn’t careful, he just might. Might end up just like the people they find drowned in the rivers from time to time.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” Garrett asks and just like that, the slow boiling anger settles.

“Yes, you are,” John agrees, his mood lifting just as suddenly as it had soured only moments before. “Are you staying?”

Garrett gives him a _look_ and John smirks at him.

“Yes, actually. I was planning on it before you dropped the rope behind me.” He rolls his eyes at the other man’s surprised expression. “You’re not subtle.”

John laughs and just like that, both sets of memories meld together seamlessly, and Garrett is wholly himself.

John kisses him and the candles flicker out and the bunker falls silent as there is no living soul left within it.

\---

There’s a tale in the valley of a man who lived his life chasing a ghost after the end of the world, and that in the end the ghost spirited him away.

There are stories now of two ghostly men who wander the valley, hands clasped together and with only eyes for each other.

The valley is haunted, just like the Henbane and the Whitetails, and the bunkers are still dangerous places where people go in and never come out of again.

But sometimes, if you’re near a river at night, you can see the two ghost men dancing on the water’s surface.


End file.
